


Tomorrow and Tomorrow

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Episode Related, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-16
Updated: 2003-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-10 18:17:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11132196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Sometimes, there's nothing you can do.





	Tomorrow and Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

  
Tomorrow and Tomorrow

## Tomorrow and Tomorrow

by Doll

Disclaimer: 

Author's Notes: Specifically dedicated to DL Whitherspoon, who wrote the absolutely KEY sentence. ^__^

Story Notes: Slight spoilers for 'Ladies Man'

* * *

I got snot all over my face, my eyes are red, and I'm still shaky, so what the hell, let the Mountie drive. The perfect cap to the absolute worst day in my life ever, bar none. Worse than the day Stella said she was leaving, and that's saying a lot. 

My hand is over my eyes, and I got my head turned toward the window, pretending it's cool, I'm cool, everything's cool. Not that I'm fooling Frase or anything, but what the hell. 

Fraser, now, he's still worried about me. I can tell, 'cause he's driving a little faster than the limit, and he keeps flicking his eyes toward me. Not turning his head or nothing, god forbid the Mountie should take his eyes off the road. But he keeps looking at me, looking at me, waiting for me to explode or melt or something. Probably thinks I'm crazy. 

Hell, I think I'm crazy. Crazy stupid, crazy dumb. And Fraser's all "You were young, Ray" and "You had no reason not to trust Franklin, Ray" and crap like that, but fuck it. It was a mistake, yeah, but it was my mistake and I should have known better. I graduated at the top of the Academy and damn it, I should have known better. 

And Beth, she goes and thanks me! Thanks me for pulling her out of where I put her in the first place. They had her fucking strapped down, and she thanks me. My eyes fill up again and I start sniffling, Fraser gets all stiff and drives faster, both of us pretending I'm not having a goddamn meltdown right here in the car. 

So we get to my place, and I scrub at my face, trying to pull it together enough to tell Frase to just take himself and the car to the Consulate when boom! There he is, opening my door, and I didn't even hear him get out of the car. 

He pulls me out of the car and up the stairs, and I'm babbling about him going home, 'cause I do not want him here when I go nuclear, which I think is coming up real soon. But he just gives me a look and says, "Don't be silly, Ray" and pushes me through the door to my apartment, and when the hell did he get a key, anyway? 

And fuck, my place is a mess. I'd forgotten that, forgotten the whole thug-search-destruction thing, and I swear, if Fraser tries to clean it up now, I will kick him in the head. Twice. But he just does that psychic Mountie thing he does, and kicks a path clear to the bathroom. "Shower, Ray," he says. 

I must look as confused as I feel, 'cause he sighs, puts a towel in my arms, pushes me toward the bathroom, and says, "Go take a shower, Ray." 

So I take a shower, a hot, hot shower, and Fraser's right like always. I feel some of the dirt that's been sticking to me, sticking for years seems like, slide right off. I put my face right under the showerhead, and after a while even I can't tell what's water and what's tears. 

A long while later I come out, all pruned-up and wrinkly, hoping to god Fraser's had the good sense to go home, but no such luck. And I have no idea what's going on now, 'cause he hasn't cleaned up the place, not one bit. 

He's taken off most of his clothes, though. He's sitting on the only upright chair in the whole place, wearing just his t-shirt and jeans, reading. 

Huh. Barefoot Mountie in the kitchen. Who'd have thought? 

He sees me and smiles, and it's all soft and goofy, which I do not get at all. My hair is flat and my eyes are red and I look like shit. But he smiles anyway, and puts down the book and turns off the light and pulls me over to the bedroom. 

Okay, so now I know what he was doing while I was in the shower. The furniture's all back where it should be, and my shit's off the floor, and he even made my bed. And I'm kind of glad about that, although I would have sworn I didn't want anything to be cleaned up, so now it's two points for the Mountie. 

I'm about to say "Goodnight" and "Goodbye" and "Good life" and all that, but the words dry right up in my mouth when I look over and see Fraser stripping down to his skivvies. Cool as you please, he slides right into bed with me and turns out the light. 

Well, I'm not having that, I'm just not. I roll over on my side and poke him in the chest and snarl. "How damaged do you think I am, Frase, huh? You think I'm some kind of pussy, some kind of wuss, I'm not safe to be by myself? Well, fuck that!" And I poke him again. 

But Frase, he just looks at me, and then, real quiet, says, "I'm not doing it for you, Ray." And then he reaches out and just hauls me over, and there I am, all plastered up against nearly-naked Mountie. And one hand's holding my head to his chest, and the other's rubbing circles on my back, and I just can not believe how good this feels. So three points. 

I'm warm and I'm cozy and I'm feeling better than I have any right to, when I realize exactly what that hard thing poking me in the hip is. I lift my head to look at Fraser, and I can tell that he knows I know, and his mouth twitches up in a tiny smile. "Ray," he says, in a tone of voice I've never heard him use before, and whoa! All of a sudden it's not just me who's getting poked in the hip. 

But as great as this is -and trust me, it's pure greatness-I can't. Not now, not tonight of all nights, not just out of nowhere. I guess that must all be on my face, 'cause Frase rolls his eyes and says, "Really, Ray! I'm not completely insensitive, you know." But then he smiles that goofy smile again and says, "But I'm glad my feelings are finally out in the open. I'm glad you know." 

Well, I'm glad too, he can feel how glad. I stare at him with my own goofy smile, and he smiles at me, which is cool, until I start to feel weirded out and kind of girly. So I put my head down on his chest and sigh. "Hell of a day, Frase" I say, meaning all of it, meaning everything. 

He runs his fingers through my hair. "Go to sleep, Ray," he says. "Go to sleep, and when you wake up, tomorrow will be a new day." 

I pop my head right back up again. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, huh? You think that's some kind of fix-it? Tomorrow's going to come and it'll be like today never happened and everything's going to be fine? You think I'll forget, you think I'm that stupid?" 

Frase puts a hand to my face and rubs his thumb along my cheekbone. "I don't think you're stupid at all, Ray, as you know full well. And I know that tomorrow won't fix anything. However, although it won't change what happened today, tomorrow will no longer _be_ today, either." 

I must be more tired than I thought, 'cause that makes sense, it makes perfect sense. Sometimes shit happens, and there's not a thing you can do but deal with it and move on. Sure, it's going to hurt, but it'll hurt a little bit less as each day goes by, and that's all you can do, just live with it. 

Slowly, I nod, and then I put my hand on his chest, right over his heart. "Tomorrow," I say, meaning everything, meaning a promise. Frase smiles and pulls me back down. "Tomorrow," he whispers, and for the very first time in a long, long time, I really believe things are going to get better. 

Tomorrow. 

* * *

End Tomorrow and Tomorrow by Doll:

Author and story notes above.


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